


Winter Requiem (The Still Friends Today Remix)

by theladyscribe



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Gen, Horror, Remix, Washington Capitals, outsider pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-19 00:38:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10628529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladyscribe/pseuds/theladyscribe
Summary: When Alex wakes, he is covered with a light dusting of snow, and everything feels sharp and bright and too much. He takes a deep breath and swears he can taste the birds in the trees that surround him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xihale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xihale/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Winter Requiem](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8990551) by [xihale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xihale/pseuds/xihale). 



> Dear xihale, thanks for letting me play with your creepy horror story. I hope you like what I did with it.
> 
> Remix title is from What We Do In the Shadows.
> 
> Content warning for blood and gore. These vampires are not the sparkly kind.

1.

Pyotr doesn't remember. He has been here for so long, and he is always so hungry. Memory has been shoved aside in favor of the imperative: _blood_. Warm, rich, life-sustaining blood. He can smell it from a distance, can practically taste it when someone is close. And in the sharp cold of the mountain, the air is thick with it.

This is a strong one, Pyotr is sure of it. As long as he can find it in the snow before the chill takes his life.

Pyotr digs into the loose snow from the avalanche with a fervent urgency, guided by the taste of the beating heart on Pyotr's tongue.

When he finds him, Pyotr spares no time in pressing his teeth against the man's throat, desperate for the rush of warmth.

He tastes even better than Pyotr anticipated, blood strong like wine on an empty stomach. He fights, and that makes it all the sweeter.

But the fight also makes Pyotr pause in his feeding. It is enough for the man to twist out of his arms, to run, to try to escape.

Pyotr runs his tongue along sharp and bloody teeth.

The man can run as far as he wants, but it's too late. Pyotr has taken too much. If he survives, here on the cold and deadly mountain, he won't be human for much longer.

 

2.

Alex runs.

He can feel the blood trickling down his throat, hot against the flesh of his collar. He doesn't know what — or _who_ — attacked him, just that he needs to run. He can feel himself growing colder, the blood loss and the chill of the air and the ebb of adrenaline leeching away his energy.

He runs his tongue along his teeth, struck with a sudden hunger, an overwhelming desire for the tang and iron of blood. Alex thinks the terror and the cold must be getting to him.

He passes out.

When Alex wakes, he is covered with a light dusting of snow, and everything feels sharp and bright and too much. He takes a deep breath and swears he can taste the birds in the trees that surround him.

He sits up, and he is _starving_. There is a fox nearby, in the underbrush upwind of him, and Alex doesn't know how he knows that, but he knows that he must feed or he will die out here, in the snow and ice, cold and starving and alone.

He finds the fox. It isn't enough.

 

3.

Nicky doesn't really expect to find Alex, and he certainly doesn't expect to find him _alive_ , if not entirely well.

There is blood streaked across Alex's mouth and chin, when Nicky finally finds him. His clothes are threadbare, and there is a wild look in his eyes. His nostrils flare when he sees Nicky, as if some animal hindbrain part of him is taking his measure.

Nicky stands his ground, staring Alex in the eye, refusing, as he always has when it comes to Alex, to be cowed.

Alex's nostrils flare again, but he resumes his manic evisceration of what appears to have been an elk.

Nicky should probably be sick at the sight, but all he feels is relief that Alex is still alive. "Alex," he whispers.

Alex doesn't respond, nor even twitch. He's decided Nicky isn't a threat, then.

Nicky steps closer, and Alex stills however briefly before leaning into the steaming guts of the elk he has slaughtered.

"Alex," Nicky says again, louder. "Alex."

Nicky sinks to his knees, choking on a sob.

 

4.

"It's not easy, you know," Alexander Mikhailovich says, with a gap-toothed smile that is still somehow full of teeth. "Being me. I can't go out during the day, and in the summer, we only have about four hours of full darkness."

"That doesn't stop you from trying," mutters Nicklas, sitting beside him. To Natasha, he says, "Have you ever treated a sunburn on a vampire? It isn't pretty." The men laugh, the sound of their laughter sharp as knives.

Natasha isn't sure if she's supposed to laugh along with them, so she smiles awkwardly and hopes they don't notice the way her tea cup rattles in its saucer. Judging by the way Nicklas' eyes flick between her hands and Alexander Mikhailovich's smile, they've noticed.

Natasha sets the cup and saucer down on the table. "This was lovely, thank you," she says carefully, "but I really should be going. The rest of my hiking group — they'll come looking for me if I'm not back before—"

"Sunset," Nicklas finishes for her.

"Yes," Natasha agrees faintly, her heart pounding loud enough to be heard across the room.

"It isn't safe to be on the mountain by yourself. Kuzy will take you," Nicklas says, nodding at the young man who has been watching their conversation from the dimly-lit doorway that leads to the kitchen.

Kuzy comes out of the shadows for the first time, and though he seems withdrawn, his color is far better than both Nicklas and Alexander Mikhailovich's. Perhaps, Natasha muses, the stories about the vampires and their human companion have more truth than she and her friends gave them credit.

"I would be happy to take you where you need to go," Kuzy intones, his voice soft, almost lethargic.

"Thank you," Natasha says, mustering up as genuine a smile as she can, under the circumstances.

 

5.

Zhenya could leave at any time, he knows. Nicky and Sanya would let him.

Sanya is better now, healthy and mostly human. Nicky is well, too, never falling so desperately ill as Sanya had been. Zhenya knows it's because of him, because of what he gives them, the strength of his blood. It keeps the nightmares at bay, and it means that he can keep errant hikers safe even when they sit in Nicky's kitchen and drink tea with Sanya.

He thinks about this as he guides Nataliya Rostova back to the hiking trails where — hopefully — her friends will be waiting for her.

When he first came back to the mountain, after he realized what Nicky was planning to do, he thought they would kill him, or that he would have to kill them. He knows, of course, that he could never have done it — for a hockey player, he has always been a soft heart. Zhenya knows, too, that if it weren't for Nicky's steadfastness, he would have been dead the moment he came back to the house that first time.

They reach the trail back to the base camp just as dusk starts to fall. Nataliya Rostova turns to Zhenya. "Thank you," she says, her voice only a little shaky.

"It was no trouble," he tells her. "You should be safe getting back if you stay on the trail. You have a flashlight?"

Nataliya Rostova nods.

"Good," Zhenya says. "Be well."

He turns to leave, but she calls him back. "Why do you — aren't you lonely, here on the mountain?"

Zhenya smiles and shakes his head. "Nicky and Sanya are my friends. I'll never be lonely with them."


End file.
